


tent

by cocomelly



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Mild Daddy Kink, Smut, arthur is pretty as always, bottom!Arthur, semi-drunk sex, sex in a tent, top!dutch, watch out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:17:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21742795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cocomelly/pseuds/cocomelly
Summary: smutty one-shot in which arthur and dutch are drunk, and arthur is willing to do whatever he says, on multiple occasions.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 4
Kudos: 150





	tent

**Author's Note:**

> ok don't judge me i thought of this while i was driving

It hadn’t been long ago since Arthur and Dutch began having secretive encounters, and the possibilities of what Dutch could’ve been doing since he had started keeping his tent enclosed — to a point where no one could get in, especially at night — were endless. They started to assume he was hiding something — _ and he was _— when night came, when the fabric of his tent shuddered and whipped softly with indoor movement. No one had mustered up the courage quite yet to confront Dutch about it. Nevertheless, they weren’t as afraid of Arthur. They watched on those nights, when Arthur slinked into Dutch’s tent, when they could hear the quiet clinks of metal collapsing to the ground afterwards. 

Arthur’s excuse for it was that “_Dutch needs me for some private business.” _ and _ “Best I not tell you about it. He wouldn’t like that.” _

And the rest of their camp was left in an endless curiosity, something that everyone was murmuring on about, something that was itching away at their minds. Surely, it wasn’t going to be long before someone caved in, walked right up to the tent, and gently parted the curtains to see what they had been up to. Dutch was well aware of this, despite the fact that he plainly asked everyone to stay out of his tent and not disturb him when he’s inside. Unsurprisingly, a gang of outlaws were going to bend the rules in one way or another. In the moment, Dutch couldn’t have cared less. 

It wasn’t every night that Arthur was in Dutch’s tent, but on some days Arthur knew that when Dutch approached him with that look on his face, saying _ “I need you to come see me in my tent tonight, son.” _that it would be in his best interest to do what Dutch said. 

At times, Arthur wasn’t always too obliged to follow what Dutch asked of him, yet he obeyed nonetheless. He would give smart remarks, belittle Dutch in his own subtle ways, call him a “_needy bastard” _in front of others, knowing it would backfire on him.

The fuse to this entire scene, there had been a rowdy party one night; A big score, a big celebration. Arthur had paced himself, drinking minimally, while Dutch had gotten far more drunk than he should have. And Dutch could handle his alcohol, still quite conscious and controlled, but had let a far past due need that had been prying at him for _ months _ swallow him like ocean waves that night; He had cornered Arthur and nudged him into his tent, closing the drapes while Arthur, tipsy and giggling, continuously questioned. 

And Arthur had found himself flipped face down on Dutch’s bed, fingers clawing into his hips and tongue and lips and teeth licking, kissing, biting his neck and shoulders, fingers leaving his hips to quickly cover his mouth when his moans and cries were too noisy. 

“Don’t make me have to shut you up_._” Dutch had said, hand leaving Arthur’s lips to start snaking up into his soft mound of hair to tug his head back while Dutch muttered demands into his ear. Arthur was dying to retaliate, to tell Dutch that _ his _dumbass was the one being too loud. But Dutch was filling his senses, smothering and drowning them with nothing but hot, wet bliss.

“Did you hear me?” Dutch whispered, thrusting forward while Arthur groaned through clenched teeth, his hands grasping desperately at the sheets of Dutch’s bed. 

“_Yes,_” he let out breathlessly, still so overwhelmed that this could even be happening, thinking to himself that maybe they were both just so drunk they somehow ended up like this. But Arthur knew he wasn’t that drunk himself, and that Dutch knew what he was doing. If he hadn’t known, he wouldn’t have told Arthur every other night out of the month to be in his tent with him again, and again, and again. 

“Yes, _ Daddy.” _Dutch corrected, clenching Arthur’s hip harder and grinning as he watched Arthur’s face contort at that word, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

“Say it, boy,” Dutch let his hands completely leave Arthur’s hips, and arms drape over his sides, one palm pressed to the bed and the other pressed over Arthur’s left hand, gently pinning him down as he loomed above him. _ “Admit you love this.” _

Arthur didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t want to admit how good this felt, or how good Dutch was at this, or how _ close _ Dutch had him, just from fucking him like this. He did anyway, succumbing to this moment, letting his lust-flooded senses eat him alive. 

“Yes,” Both hands were pushed flat against the bed now, he was left with nothing to do but curl his toes. _ “Yes, Daddy.” _

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat, undeniably having to swallow his pride to let those words leave his mouth at the orders of Dutch himself. He tried turning his face into the sheets, shaking now. Dutch leaned down to kiss his neck lovingly, and Arthur could smell the heavy whiskey on his breath. “Good boy,” Arthur trembled beneath him. “_So _good.” 

Arthur was feeling a familiar warmth in the pit of his stomach and lifted himself up from his cheek pressed to the bed onto his elbows. His breath hitched softly through his teeth before he quickly exhaled, soft gasp in after quiet groan out. 

Dutch flipped him over onto his back, pushing him back down and exposing Arthur’s glistening tan body to himself. 

“God, you’re pretty.” He said softly, Arthur’s glowing face and body drowning out the drunken chants coming from outside of the tent. He laid there, waiting for Dutch to re-enter himself while his eyes danced around him, lips parted. 

“What are you waitin’ on?” Arthur said, annoyed, and Dutch pressed himself back inside without any warning. 

Arthur let out a bold moan, eyes rolling back. 

“What’d I tell you?” Dutch said, hand creeping up to gently take hold of Arthur’s throat. 

A filthy grin spread across Arthur’s face, “Go fuck yourself, Dutch.” 

Dutch pressed harder, and thrusted harder, while Arthur’s grin twisted into a desperate face, feeling Dutch clasp his hand around his dick and move, lubed with his spit. 

Dutch was close now, hand loosening its grip around Arthur’s neck to clench tightly around his thigh. 

_ “Fuck, Arthur…” _

Arthur arched his back from the bed, panting, body telling him to push himself onto Dutch and thrust upwards all at once while he writhed, his hand frantically reaching out to grip Dutch’s hand — just to have something to hold. 

“I can’t,” Arthur whimpered, “I’m—I can’t—“ 

“Cum for _ daddy._” Dutch leaned in, laughing quietly between moans. He was already releasing himself inside Arthur, thrusting upward and groaning harmoniously. 

Arthur was trembling, reaching and scratching at the bed, crying out as Dutch brought him to his peak and he came on his stomach. His toes pointed, legs clenching and shaking as he came. He laid there as Dutch slid out of him, sitting back on his heels and wiping his forehead with his forearm, smile on his face.

Arthur laid there in his post-orgasmic haze, breathing slow and heart pounding in his chest. He let his eyes open, and saw Dutch putting his clothes back on, stumbling slightly. 

“Here,” Dutch tossed Arthur’s clothes at him, “Clean yourself up. We have lies to tell.”


End file.
